


Strength of Women

by imagineagreatadventure



Series: The Progress [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Arranged Marriage, Coming of Age, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Prince Gendry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:24:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineagreatadventure/pseuds/imagineagreatadventure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Married to Willas Tyrell for over a year, Sansa has to deal with troubles of infertility, Prince Gendry's Progress coming to her new home, and a worry that someone may be after her family - both the old and the new.</p><p>Someone who may be a guest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strength of Women

**Author's Note:**

> There's one short explicit scene in here and I honestly can't believe I wrote it. I never write smut lol. And it is fairly short so if you're looking for detailed smut you're going to be disappointed, just wanted to give you a heads up now! 
> 
> This is a sort-of continuation of the previous story in this series. You *probably* should read it before reading this, but in summary, Gendry is the Crown Prince and child of Cersei and Robert and was betrothed to Arya, while Sansa was betrothed to Willas. Arya and Gendry were married and decided to do some adventuring instead of staying at the Red Keep. An adventure = a great Progress throughout the seven kingdoms (and eventually even the wall). Also everyone is aged-up! 
> 
> This particular fic is less of a continuation, to be honest, and more a musing on "what-if" for Sansa and the Seven Kingdoms.

Highgarden was in an uproar.

The heir to the throne was arriving, causing the Septon to bleat about humility, the Septa to speak of chastity to the maids (the King was infamous for his bastards, although Sansa knew Gendry was nothing like the King in that regard), and Margaery to twirl around the gardens laughing.

“I hear half the court will be with them, Sansa, my sweet sister,” Margaery informed her, her eyes dark and spritely, “And I shall find a husband among them.”

Margaery was older than Sansa and yet, she was still unmarried. Sansa suspected this had more to do with a surplus of suitors rather than a dearth of them. Margaery was pretty and smart and the Tyrells were powerful as both allies and enemies.

Even the Martells had breached the unspoken rule that Martells and Tyrells were not to be united in matrimony, proposing Quentyn for Margaery.

But that would not do for Mace Tyrell, who blustered when told, even laughing at the suggestion at dinner.

“A Martell? And one that will not inherit - for their girls inherit in Dorne,” he said, almost spitefully. Lady Olenna rolled her eyes, and Sansa held back a giggle.

“Shush, Mace,” Lady Olenna lectured her son, still rolling her eyes, “You act as if that’s not a sensible idea.”

Lord Tyrell snorted. 

Willas, however, was taking the proposal from the Martells more seriously, “The Martells are good people, Father.”

“How can you say that when Oberyn Martell did what he did to your leg?” Lord Tyrell demanded, purposefully ignoring that through that injury, Prince Oberyn and Willas had maintained a long-lasting friendship that occurred through letters and gifts. 

Sansa had read one once, when Willas was asleep beside her, after they made love. It made her blush. Prince Oberyn had so many suggestions on how Willas could, with his leg… 

Well, it wouldn’t do to think of those words now, Sansa knew, feeling the blush crawl on her cheeks again. 

Willas spoke again, “Prince Oberyn is coming with the Prince’s Progress, you know. It would be wise for us to respect him and his offers.”

Margaery tutted lovingly, “Father wants me to marry Robb.”

Sansa thought on that for a moment but couldn’t imagine the flower of the south doing anything but wilting in the North. But she said nothing, knowing that her words could be misconstrued as something else entirely.

Lady Olenna nodded, “Out of all of them, I like him best.”

“Warden of the North,” Lord Tyrell mused, forgetting that Sansa was sitting at his table.

“Father,” Willas warned, grasping Sansa’s hand. She smiled at him and tightened the grip. 

“It was only a thought,” Lord Tyrell said, when he heard Willas’ warning. But he seemed a little embarrassed so Sansa smiled at him, so he would understand that she wouldn’t say a word.

It wasn’t as if her family didn’t know the reasoning behind the Tyrell’s push for Robb. And they were a good age for each other, but…

“What about Harry Hardyng?” Sansa said, thinking of the heir to her cousin’s realm. Robin, by all accounts was ill, and Jon Arryn had already passed away, leaving no heirs but the sickly little boy. 

“The Eyrie,” Lord Tyrell said reverently until his mother smacked him on the shoulder.

“Don’t be so obvious,” she lectured. 

Margaery laughed, “Father will be fine. But I am intrigued by Sansa’s idea. What have you heard about him?”

It was all very little, but Sansa spared no detail, eager to help her new family’s ambitions. 

“A bastard child?” Margaery smirked, “At least that confirms one thing.”

“Hush,” Lady Olenna said. “We are never alone.”

But Sansa knew Margaery was referring to her possible betrothal to Renly Baratheon, her own brother Loras’ lover and the King’s youngest brother.

Pleased that she had given Margaery another option, Sansa smiled. 

* * *

 

“Willas,” Sansa groaned into his mouth as he pressed another finger up inside her, curling all three until she almost saw stars. She clenched and felt his fingers within her and when he kissed her lips, licking the bottom one, she almost whimpered. 

She did whimper when he removed his fingers… one at a time, each one momentarily circling her bud, almost lazily.

She said his name again, begging, and then he inserted his fingers again.

And again and again - in and out, in and out. 

She felt almost as if she couldn’t move she was so frightened that the feeling burning inside her would go away the moment she did. 

 But she gripped his shoulders when he rubbed his cock against her thigh, until he removed his fingers and entered her _hard._

Sansa shook from the impact and opened her mouth wide enough for Willas to stick his tongue in it, kissing her savagely as he wrapped his arms around her bare back. Sansa was gripping his shoulders even harder than before, unable and unwilling to feel anything but him. He sat up straighter, situating her in his lap to ease the leg pain that always troubled him in moments like this. Sansa wished she could bend over to kiss it but instead she wrapped her own legs around his waist as he jolted in and out of her, causing her breath to hitch.

He let go of her mouth in order to kiss her neck and then suckled the spot between her breasts. That was the spot that made all of her light up and so she cried out as the burning feeling rolled over her, barely remembering that he was still inside her, feeling everything and nothing all at once. 

And still he kept going, even as she sank onto him, almost unmoving, holding onto his pale neck now instead of his broad shoulders, gripping him so hard it was as if she was choking him, although she could feel his breath upon her own neck. And then he stopped and Sansa could feel his seed rushing inside of her.

“This one could be our child,” he whispered as she let go of him - her feet and hands disengaging and she almost cried tears of joy and fear as he held her in his arms. 

They had been trying since their first night, months and months ago, longer than a full year, and there was still no child. 

No heir.

Half the servants whispered that she was barren, while the other half whispered that it was Willas’ injury. The maester disagreed with all those theories and said that they had to keep trying.

And so they did. 

Sansa almost hated it at first. It felt so odd to be so close to a man she did not know and she could tell Willas was just as uncomfortable with the act in the beginning. 

But every night, he asked her permission before even touching her face, his eyes watching her carefully, as if expecting her to say no.

And every night she said yes.

Oftentimes more than once as she grew more and more comfortable with her husband and her role as his wife.

And now, Sansa looked towards her husband’s long eyelashes and sighed. _Now_ she couldn’t imagine sleeping elsewhere.  

He kissed her lightly, and laid her down in the bed.

“Goodnight, my lady.”

* * *

 “My lady Sansa,” the maid cried into her ear when she awoke the next morning, “They’re here!”

“Who is here?” Sansa asked with a yawn, as the soreness between her thighs settled into her lap like a cat laying down for a nap. Perhaps she could get a cat, she thought with amusement, but she knew Lady would not like that. Lady, who typically slept outside her door on the nights Willas was in her rooms, was by the maid’s legs looking almost meek as she climbed onto the bed to give Sansa a kiss on her cheek. 

While the maid tutted Sansa laughed and hugged Lady, kissing the top of her nose.

“My lady, your sister, the princess, is here!” the maid cried out again, trying to get Sansa’s attention away from her direwolf.

“Arya!” Sansa yelped, excited. “Where is she?”

“They’re downstairs, Lady Sansa, but we must get you dressed and ready.”

Sansa wished she could run downstairs and see Arya now but nodded and tried not to sigh as it took nearly forever to do her hair in the southron way that Margaery liked it. All the southron girls preferred it, Sansa knew, and she usually did too, it was so soft and so pretty, but it took nearly all her effort for her not to ask for a pleated braid, like the ones her mother wore in the North. 

But instead her red hair was cascading down her back in the sort of waves that Sansa remembered lapping up the cliffs of King’s Landing. Sansa looked as beautiful as ever, or so her maid told her, cooing over her high cheekbones and blue eyes. Sansa wasn’t so sure she cared but she gave the maid a smile anyhow, knowing that it was better to be loved than to be hated. She had seen enough evidence of that at the Red Keep, where Queen Cersei, who thought she ruled the Kingdom with her gold coins and iron heart, was hated and plotted against at every turn. Sansa hoped Arya wasn’t unconsciously getting involved in any plots, while Arya was smart about people, she had very little political understanding. 

Sansa supposed she would soon find out, now that she was dressed. It was a very beautiful sleeveless dress - blue charmeuse satin with a corset that made her waist look even smaller than it already was - but the maid wanted to make Sansa wear another, one with half the back missing, the way the Tyrells and their ladies wore theirs, but Sansa, who appreciated most Southern stylings, was still uncomfortable with the wind kissing her bare back. 

Only Willas was allowed to do that. 

When Sansa finally was able to make her way downstairs, she had been thrilled to see her sister. Arya looked just as excited, and the two of them hugged and cried and looking like absolute fools to the rest who followed Arya ( _Princess Arya,_ Sansa’s inner voice reminded her - one that sounded awfully like Septa Mordane) and Prince Gendry on their Progress throughout the Seven Kingdoms. 

The Progress had already visited the Stormlands although that was for but a moment. Prince Gendry had seen it often growing up as Lord Renly’s nephew and was disinterested inexploring it thoroughly so instead they headed almost straight to Highgarden because Arya was very eager see her sister. Or so Prince Gendry said, almost smirking while Arya glared at him. 

Sansa was surprised that the crowd that followed them was not larger in scope, as they had been expecting nearly half the Court to arrive, but the Prince had kindly informed her that most were uninterested in such a long, perilous journey - and the King and Queen were not exactly pleased with the idea of a Progress. However, Prince Gendry added, her father, the Hand, had persuaded the King to approve of the plan. Embarrassed, as the idea for the Progress had originally come from her own lips, Sansa tried to smile at the Prince. 

But she was still amazed. There were only about seventy men in arms guarding the Prince, and only one of them was a Kingsguard.  

And he was the Kingslayer! Not a knight that was loyal, brave, and kind, but a man who killed his own King and broke his vows. 

Arya had her own guard of twenty men, all from the Stark household, which worried Sansa, for who was to protect Father now. Arya’s guard also included one woman, who Sansa recognized as Lady Brienne of Tarth, the woman who won the melee in the Tourney of the Hand.

Prince Oberyn of Dorne was in the party, with his entourage of thirty men, and one woman as well, although Sansa knew that the woman was his paramour, Ellaria Sand. And his paramour was wearing a dress that would have made even Lady Margaery blush. If Margaery ever remembered how to blush in any case, Sansa thought.

Lord Renly had also joined the party, with his own set of thirty-five men (as he was not to be outdone by Prince Oberyn). He was also accompanied by Loras Tyrell who hugged Willas and Margaery tightly when he arrived before asking after his brother Garlan and Garlan’s wife Leonette, who were both with Leonette’s family at the moment. Sansa knew the Tyrells valued each other as much as the Starks and so smiled upon seeing their happy faces. 

There was only one other Lord of any consequence in the party, and that was Lord Manderly, one of her father’s bannermen. Sansa smiled at him and curtsied beautifully to show her favor. She was surprised to see him so far down south, but knew that he had come to see Arya married to the Prince at the Red Keep, even bringing along his green-haired grand-daughter, Wylla, who caused many tongues to cluck and many young girls to ask their mothers if _they_ could dye their hair. It was an obvious attempt at catching Robb’s eye, but it almost worked, Sansa remembered. The two Northerners had seemed to stare at one another quite often, even speaking once or twice. Robb had even laughed at something Wylla had said.

Perhaps the North would have a green lady.

Wylla was not with Lord Manderly now, so Sansa asked after her. 

“I sent her home, she was not interested in venturing down South. The North is where her heart is at,” Lord Manderly said, his bushy eyebrows raised in meaning. 

Sansa smiled and tried not to laugh, but he seemed to sense it and laughed for her, “Lady Sansa, you’re as beautiful and intelligent as everyone proclaims, it seems a shame you were married to the South.”

“I thought I was married to Willas Tyrell not the entire south of Westeros,” she quipped which made Lord Manderly laugh again.

Arya appeared at her side. “Excuse me, Lord Manderly, is it all right if I speak with my sister?” Arya asked, while physically pulling Sansa away.

Sansa would have admonished her if Lord Manderly hadn’t look so amused. “By all means,” he said. 

It was then that Sansa remembered he had _granddaughters_ and was probably used to this sort of behavior.

“So this is Highgarden,” Arya said, once Sansa guided Arya towards an alcove. They sat together on a stone bench. Sansa could smell the roses and the other flowers and smiled at her sister.

“Yes, this is Highgarden.”

“It seems perfect for you,” Arya sniffed, “Is there a garden nearby?”

“Yes, would you like to see it?”

“Maybe later, I’d rather see the horses.”

“Willas would like that very much. I can arrange it -“

Arya shook her head, “Don’t be all ladylike, I came here to talk to my sister not a lady.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and Arya clapped her hands together gleefully. “That’s exactly what I meant.”

“Shut up, Arya.”

Arya grinned, “Not very polite to your future Queen, are you Lady Sansa?”

Sansa leapt up from the bench and swept a deep curtsy, “Please forgive me, Princess Arya, I did not mean to offend you.”

Now Arya was the one who was scowling and rolling her eyes, “Stop that.”

“But Princess Arya!” Sansa japed, “I have offended you and I must -“

“I said stop it, and that’s an order,” Arya snapped. 

“You started it,” Sansa said in a more normal tone of voice. “What is the matter with you?”

“Nothing is the matter with me,” Arya said, playing with her long braid, “Let’s just go back inside.”

Sansa placed a hand on Arya’s shoulder, where her fingers felt silk brocade. Arya truly was a Princess now, “I will ask Willas to show you his horses.”

Arya hesitated before nodding sharply and the two sisters walked arm-in-arm.

* * *

 Sansa had never loved horseback riding and so declined with a stiff smile when Arya and Gendry invited her to accompany them as the foursome walked in the gardens together. Willas smiled too, clutching her arm as he did so in order not to fall over, but declined as well as his injury made it hard for him to ride. The Prince and the Princess shrugged and left the Willas and Sansa in the garden, and Willas watched them go with a strange look on his face. 

He wished to ride, she knew. Although sometimes, on his better days, he tried anyhow, Sansa wasn’t sure why he did so, or even why he still wanted to try since it was a horse that smashed into his leg, but he did try at times, making Sansa nervous. 

However, Prince Oberyn’s presence made her much more nervous. 

He was a flirt, Sansa recognized immediately when he kissed her hand at the welcoming feast, just for a moment too long, which Willas seemed to realize because he laughed. She wasn’t sure if she liked that, but knew the two men were friends, despite the injury, and so tried to smile as well. 

It was only then that she heard the rumors from the servants. 

“Prince Oberyn brought that serving boy into his bed last night,” she heard a maid whisper to another when she was walking down the hall. 

“But he likes women,” the other said, her voice a tad louder, “And that bastard woman was with him last night, I saw her go in.”

Sansa realized what had truly happened in Prince Oberyn’s rooms before the two servants did, and blushed in the shadows, where she had been listening quietly. The servants giggled with embarrassment and talked no more of it although they, like Sansa, were probably imagining the acrobatics that could entail.

She would have to make sure that room was very clean when they all left, she thought when Prince Oberyn approached her and Willas on their walk in the gardens. They walked together every morning and every evening, just to talk. At first it was a way to know one another better but now it was to share the news and the air and to just be happy in each other’s presence.

“You look lovely, Lady Sansa,” Prince Oberyn greeted when he spotted them, “And Willas! You look rather tired, shouldn’t you sit down?”

_“_ Always complimentary towards beautiful women and not to me,” Willas drawled, clutching Sansa’s arm. “And where is your lovely lady?”

“In the company of Lady Brienne. She wanted to ask how she trained,” Oberyn stated, although for some reason Sansa felt as if it was only a half-truth. 

Sansa smiled, “Where are you off to then Prince Oberyn?”

“I was off to find the two of you and the Prince and Princess as I heard you were all were walking together, but I see that is not so now.”

Willas shook his head, “The younger ones abandoned us for the horses.”

Prince Oberyn grinned, “Ay, I believe they are not much younger than your wife.”

Sansa blushed demurely, as she expected that was what Prince Oberyn wanted. “Gendry is actually my elder.”

Willas frowned at that, as if suddenly realizing her age while Prince Oberyn laughed, “Ah so your husband is wrong about something. It often seems as if he knows everything at times.”

“I suppose it is good to keep him on his toes a little,” Sansa agreed which made Prince Oberyn laugh again while placing a friendly arm around herself and Willas. She felt as if this was very indecorous but tried not to frown for Willas, who looked pleased that Prince Oberyn was so friendly to her.

Prince Oberyn freed them from his grasp as they passed by a little white flower. “Very beautiful,” he said, “And deadly.”

“Deadly?” Sansa asked, feeling as though she should take a step back. But that was silly. He could not harm her with a flower. 

Willas tightened his grip on her elbow in reassurance, and smiled at Oberyn. “I told you that we had it.”

“The veratrum,” Prince Oberyn said. “Within an hour of ingesting this flower you can find yourself bent over with terrible stomach cramps. And then all of your muscles convulse until you fall unconscious… and die. It’s been used to assassinate many leaders at one point. I am surprised you keep it in your garden, Willas.”

Willas laughed, “Well, Grandmother loves her pretty flowers. The ones that aren’t roses in any case.”

Sansa kept her gaze steady even as she desperately felt the need to shudder. “How can such a pretty little flower kill so many?”

Prince Oberyn looked back at her, almost gently. He then met Willas’ eyes and Sansa could feel something pass between the two men, but neither said anything until Willas kissed the top of her head.

Ignoring her question, Prince Oberyn plucked the flower from its stem and placed it in Sansa’s hair. She stilled while Willas laughed. 

“If you wear this, no one will doubt that you’re both dangerous and beautiful, Lady Sansa,” Prince Oberyn winked.

But Sansa did not feel reassured. “It only kills if someone ingests it?” she asked, trying not to betray her nerves.

“You’re safe, Sansa,” Willas smiled. “And it does look very pretty in your red hair.”

Sansa had never cared less as the two men admired her. She wanted to rip it from her head, but smiled back at them. “Pretty but deadly,” she reminded them.

Prince Oberyn’s gaze frightened Sansa. “Pretty but deadly,” he agreed.

* * *

Arya sat restless in her saddle while Sansa rode beside her. “Why are there so many flowers?” she demanded, “Is there a need for this many flowers?" 

“They’re beautiful… and sometimes harmful,” Sansa said, remembering Prince Oberyn’s grin as he placed the flower in her hair. 

_Did he hate her?_

She could not confess her fears of this out loud. Willas would think her unwise and rash and possibly even mad and Arya would think that she was being silly and hysterical. But sometimes it felt as if the Dornish prince’s cheer was false and sometimes someone would mention mutterings of Lyanna when looking upon Arya… and his face would freeze.

As if he was unsure of what expression it should take.

Sansa would be unable to blame him if he hated her father and her long-dead aunt for their roles in his sister’s rape and murder. Although her father detested the act and never wanted that to happen to Princess Elia, that would not matter to her brother. As it would not matter to Sansa if someone did that to Arya.

Even thinking that made her want to reach for Arya’s hand and hold it, suddenly afraid that Prince Gendry would prove to be as unwise as Prince Rhaegar. But he wouldn’t, Sansa reassured herself, he was a kind prince. 

She wondered though, if the prince’s kindness would save him from an untimely death when he and Arya arrived in Dorne. The living visages of Robert and Lyanna could not be welcome in the land that Lyanna had died in and Elia had been born in.

Regret filled Sansa’s being and she sighed heavily. 

“What is the matter with you today?” Arya asked, her brow furrowed. “You’re acting strange.”

“I haven’t bled this month.” _There_ , Sansa thought with satisfaction, that will distract Arya. “And I’m wondering if that means my troubles are coming to an end.”

Arya grimaced, “I can’t believe you’re trying for a child already.”

“I can’t believe - “ Sansa stopped. “Never mind.” _I can’t believe you aren’t._ “It doesn’t matter.”

Arya seemed to believe her for she smiled brightly, “Cheer up, Sansa. You’re surrounded by flowers.”

_And you’re surrounded by vipers_ , Sansa thought with despair.

* * *

Lord Renly was as kind and handsome as Sansa remembered, although she didn’t remember him being so _courtly_. She thought his manners were genuine the first time they had met at Winterfell but now saw that they were half-truths and half-japes.   

Willas did nothing but tell Sansa the truth and she was suddenly very grateful for that.

“I think I shall stay here a turn, at least until Gendry and our little wolfling princess return from their journeys at Dorne. I’m sure you know they plan on stopping here briefly again after they visit Prince Doran,” Lord Renly told Sansa with a sharp smile that knew too much. He bit into his pear cleanly and Sansa watched the juices run down his chin. 

Loras watched them too with a smirk on his handsome face and adoration in his eyes. The Knight of Flowers loved Lord Renly, Sansa knew, and Lord Renly loved him. It was plain to see it yet no one spoke on it. It was strange how such a love was so little talked of, despite many knowing of its existence.

Lord Renly continued, ignorant of the thoughts in Sansa’s head. “I shall go back to King’s Landing once I see that our crown prince is still happily alive and well after his visit to Dorne. I cannot abandon my seat on the council for too long, especially since Stannis is still missing from the scene and stewing in his castle at Dragonstone.”

“Oh?” Sansa asked, curious. Stannis had left but a week before the Starks had all arrived at King’s Landing, which most suspected was in anger of Robert choosing her father, but now Sansa wondered if it was something more.

“They say he’s got some fire priest from Essos with him there. A woman priest if you can believe it. She probably lit up a flame that Stannis never knew existed,” Lord Renly winked at Sansa and she blushed.

Although she wasn’t sure why she did such a thing. She was a maiden no longer, although Margaery sometimes acted as if Sansa was the maiden and Margaery was the married woman.

Yet it was Sansa who had a babe in her belly… not Margaery. 

The maester had confirmed it the day before, smiling at her so kindly that it was almost as if he was Maester Luwin and she was in Winterfell again. For a moment, she could even see a summer snow drifting down from the skies. 

But the moment broke when Loras interrupted her thoughts with a jape. “Stannis is stone - he could never be enflamed even if a dragon spat fire at him.”

“And his daughter - “ Lord Renly was unable to complete his thoughts for he couldn’t stop laughing. Sansa frowned at him.

“Shireen is a delight to all from what I hear,” she said coldly. “All reports speak of her intelligence and kindness. She would be a treasure to any parent.”

“If you like your treasure claimed by greyscale,” Loras scowled. “She should have died from it.”

Sansa wanted to scream at him, rage at him for wishing ill on a child, thinking upon her own hidden underneath her corset, but glared instead, desperately hoping that Margaery or Willas or even Lady Olenna or Lord Tyrell would arrive soon. She liked Loras very much when he wasn’t being cruel, but sometimes his vanity overcame his sense.

Lady Olenna arrived first and remarked almost immediately upon entering the scene, “Good gods, Loras, sit up straight. Are you a knight or a butcher’s boy?”

Loras scowled but listened to his grandmother and Sansa smiled at the older woman who ignored her. “I have just seen that Brienne of Tarth, now she is a wonder.”

Loras snorted while Lord Renly laughed again. “She’s loyal and good with a sword, but a wonder?” Lord Renly asked. “I am unsure of why you’re enamored of her.”

Lady Olenna eyed Lord Renly, “You should appreciate loyalty more than you do. She is not a dog, she chooses her master.”

“I’m her lord,” Lord Renly flared, although he draped a smiling mask over his anger. His eyes were bulging though, “She is under my banner.”

“But she could be under Stannis if your brother Robert had sense. Do you think she’d show him the same loyalty as she shows you?” Lady Olenna waited. “No? Then think on that and show her respect.”

“I do,” Lord Renly said, frowning to himself. “I always do.”

“Princess Arya adores her,” Sansa said, thinking of how Arya nearly followed around Brienne as if the older girl was her sister. A pang of jealousy hit Sansa’s heart. She and Arya got along well now, but Sansa still felt as if she didn’t completely understand Arya… and she somehow knew that Brienne did.

“Have you met her yet, Lady Sansa?” Lord Renly turned to her. 

Sansa smiled, “She and I met briefly when the progress arrived.”

“That is good,” he said. “You two are similar and I believe you would get along.”

Similar? Sansa felt a little struck by that and wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be offended. Even Loras looked at Lord Renly peculiarly and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Brienne is kind and gentle underneath it all. You know that as well as I,” Lord Renly said, nodding at Loras. “She may be talented at swordplay but that’s not all of her.”

“Well, I know that,” Loras smirked and Sansa knew he was referring to the woman’s stature. “But like Sansa?”

Lady Olenna interrupted whatever Lord Renly was about to say. “I can see it,” she declared with finality, ending the discussion. “Now where is everyone? Is tardiness fashionable at court, Lord Renly?”

“If it was, I wouldn’t be here.” 

* * *

 Sansa laid down a flower by the statue of the Mother. She hoped her secret prayer did not go unnoticed by the Seven, but when she looked upon the cold stone that they were made up of, her heart deflated. She looked away, and back towards the rest of the sept, feeling almost as though the stone was pitying her, for hoping, for wishing, for praying for a babe that may never come. Sansa was terrified that she would lose the child and so walked slowly and deliberately, only sipping at her wine at dinner although the maester told her this was unnecessary. She couldn't help it though - she was afraid that she'd be worthless to the Tyrells. That they wanted, needed a woman who could bear children and instead got _Sansa_.

Exhaling, she smiled at the faces she saw in the rest of the sept, the ones she knew and the ones she didn't. Aftera all, they all knew her. The sept was beautiful, nearly as beautiful as the sept in King's Landing, The Great Sept of Baelor, but Sansa suddenly, desperately wished she was in the sept her father built for her mother in Winterfell, where she knew all the faces, and where both the Seven and the Old Gods could hear her prayers as long as she walked to the Heart Tree.

Still, she could hear voices rising in sync as the people praised and prayed. The melody made her smile and she quietly sang along as she left the sept and entered the gardens.

_“Gentle Mother, font of mercy,_

_save our sons from war, we pray,_

_stay the swords and stay the arrows,_

_let them know a better day._

_Gentle Mother, strength of women,_

_help our daughters through this fray,_

_soothe the wrath and tame the fury,_

_teach us all a kinder way”_

Everyone had always told Sansa she had a beautiful voice, one that flowed like rivers and waterfalls. It's why she was truly more Tully than Stark, one even said, which irritated Sansa for some reason. 

She was a Stark. Why did everyone mean to exclude her from her Northern heritage - as if she didn't grow up in the cold, as if she didn't see and feel the summer snows, and huddle under the covers when her fire disappeared at night, the aching in her bones almost painful. 

She had a direwolf, how could they doubt it?

"Lady Sansa," Prince Oberyn greeted. Sansa nearly jumped as he pounced out of the shadows like a cat. Arya would like that comparison, she knew. "You look lovely on this day."

"As opposed to others?" she arched her eyebrow and pretended to be Margaery. Margaery would be able to handle him, why did Sansa feel so out-of-sorts when it came to Prince Oberyn?

He laughed, "Ah you are much too clever for me. Come, let us walk together back to the castle."

Sansa hesitated but realized there was no need to. Prince Oberyn was her husband's friend. 

Even as he was her new family's enemy.

And possibly her old one's too, Sansa thought, her stomach dropping. Poor Lyanna. Poor Elia.

"While you do look lovely today, you also look quite melancholy. Why are you so sad, Lady Sansa?"

Sansa smiled although doing so made her face feel as though Arya was pulling on it, trying to make her physically smile, as she did in their youth. "I'm just a little tired from the constant festivities, Prince Oberyn."

He was quiet for a moment, but looked like he wanted to say something, even slowing down his walk.

However, Sansa strode forward, resisting the need to speak back and tell the truth. 

But when he finally did speak, Sansa stopped walking. “You remind me of my sister.”

Sansa looked away from the flowers and back to the Prince, feeling overwhelmed. “Princess Elia?” Sansa asked, a wet, sliding feeling falling from her heart to her stomach. _The woman who was murdered and raped and had to watch her children be smashed against the floor? The woman whose husband left her to steal and rape Sansa’s own aunt?_  

Sansa turned away, “Why?”

“You have her strength.”

Sansa couldn’t help it. Tears escaped her eyes. She felt ridiculous. Prince Oberyn noticed her distress and moved closer but she waved him off, not able to bear it. “I’m fine,” she sniffed. “Strength indeed.”

“Everyone cries,” Prince Oberyn said gently, guiding her to a bench. She felt odd sitting down next to him. She felt almost as if someone else should be there too. “It’s strange, your sister is truly similar to your Aunt by all accounts, and you are so similar to Elia… yet Princess Arya and you are close.”

“We weren’t always,” Sansa admitted, wiping away her tears with her hands. Prince Oberyn handed her a handkerchief and she patted her cheeks with it, feeling stupid. _Stupid Sansa_. “We hated each other, well, of course not truly, but the way siblings that are so different do when they’re young.”

“I can’t say that I ever had that sort of pleasure with mine,” his smile was genuine and Sansa couldn’t help but smile back, “We were too happy to be with each other.”

His eyes were dark and she could almost see the memories of his childhood within them. “How can you break bread with Lannisters?” She blurted out, blushing as soon as she did. 

“I do not blame Gendry if that is what worries you,” Prince Oberyn said. “He is all the good parts of his father and none of the parts of his mother. He was but a babe when this all happened. No,” his face hardened, “I blame Tywin Lannister and Gregor Clegane.”

His next words chilled Sansa’s heart, “And I will see them both buried.”

She wanted to ask more desperately but knew that she should stay quiet. 

But… did that mean Prince Oberyn was going to kill them?

He smiled at her again, “Cheer up, Lady Sansa. You will have nothing to worry about here in Highgarden.”

But didn’t she? Her sister was the Queen-to-be and her father was the Hand of the King. The King that did not object when Elia and her children were murdered. Still, she sensed the truth in his heart, and so allowed him to kiss her hand once, and guide her out of the gardens and into the castle of white stone that she called home.

* * *

The Great Hall was full of guests and Sansa tried smiling at each one, blissfully happy that they had only a week longer with all of these people. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could smile so falsely at so many. Their poor japes, the intrigue, oh, Sansa just wanted to crawl back into her bed and hug Lady.  

Instead she was standing in a corner, watching it all pass by her. Lady Olenna was haranguing her son and good-daughter, while Willas and Prince Oberyn laughed in another corner as the prince’s paramour, the beautiful Ellaria Sand, smiled at them both. Margaery and Loras were listening to Lord Renly and Sansa believed she could see Arya, Prince Gendry, and their respective guards out on the balcony beside the hall. She wished to go see them but knew she should not leave. 

She was the hostess. It was expected that she be here. 

So Sansa sipped her wine and tried not to feel too restless as she watched people laugh and talk and plot.

“Lady Sansa.”

Sansa looked up to see Wyman Manderly, “My lord?”

His eyes sparkled underneath his bushy brow, “I have received a letter from your father. Would you like to read it?”

Sansa did want to read it, especially as Lord Manderly offered it, but hesitated. “Does it concern me?”

“It concerns your brother Robb.”

She nodded then, relieved that it had something that would concern her, and Lord Manderly handed her the letter. 

Robb was getting married to Wylla Manderly. Or so the letter said, although it did look like her Father’s handwriting.

“I see we are to be related,” Sansa said, smiling up at Lord Manderly, although she didn’t have to look far. Their heights were closely matched. 

“My girl was in love with your brother the moment they spoke,” he confided, almost giggling. She realized that he was drunk with relief. “She shall make a gentle and good Lady Stark.”

“I believe it,” Sansa promised, patting Lord Manderly’s shoulder. “I hope I can attend the wedding.”

“Or at least the births of your nieces and nephews,” he waggled his eyebrows. 

At his eagerness, Sansa suddenly hoped that her father had not made a mistake in uniting their families with such an ambitious man. But Lord Manderly was loyal to the Starks, that much was obvious. Loyalty and ambition rarely held hands, but it seemed that they worked together well for Lord Manderly.

“I know Lady Wylla will bless Winterfell with her presence,” Sansa said. “She is loyal, beautiful, and true and my brother could do no better.”

At that, she looked away but saw Margaery who wrinkled her brow at Lord Manderly. Margaery was too far for Sansa to explain, but then, Sansa thought, did she want to explain that one of Margaery’s possible suitors was marrying another?

So instead Sansa smiled at her goodsister and waved her off, bringing her attention back to her father’s bannerman. 

But Lord Manderly bid her goodbye and informed Sansa that he wished to share the good news with Princess Arya. Sansa bit her lip but allowed him to go, unsure of what she should do until she spotted Willas who was now speaking with Brienne of Tarth. The poor woman looked very uncomfortable in her dress.

Sansa went to her husband and smiled at the lady. “You look lovely,” she tried reassuring the larger woman but Lady Brienne just turned as red as her dress.

“You do not need to lie,” she muttered. “I’d much rather be in armor.”

“I wouldn’t lie,” Sansa lied. “Perhaps it needs some adjustments to flatter your waist, but truly, it suits you.”

Willas patted Sansa’s back. “Brienne does not enjoy courtly courtesies,” he whispered, tickling her ear.

And yet the lady preferred Renly over Stannis, Sansa marveled, watching Brienne, whose blue eyes widened a fraction.

“The Kingslayer is coming this way,” Brienne hissed, looking very much as if she was torn between staying and leaving.

Sansa turned around and watched Ser Jaime approach. He was handsome, all Lannisters were,but he was also an oathbreaker.

And a Lannister.

And Lannisters had men like Gregor Clegane.

And Queens like Cersei.

Sansa smiled at him when he arrived at their group, but it was false and she sensed he knew it. “Ser Jaime,” she said, “Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“I’ll enjoy it more when we leave,” he said candidly, as if he had forgot he was speaking to the host. But the sharp look in his eyes suggested that he didn't.

Willas, who was always so gentle and so lighthearted, looked almost as fierce as Arya as he examined Jaime from head to toe. Sansa felt a rush of affection for her husband when Jaime Lannister flushed. “No offense meant. I’m just eager for the trip to be over,” the Kingslayer said, avoiding Willas’ gaze and looking back at Sansa.

Sansa nodded, “You wish you were back at King’s Landing.”

The Kingslayer almost smiled at her, “Exactly that.” 

“But we are going across all Seven Kingdoms,” Brienne spoke. She edged closer, she had been behind Sansa before, and now she stood beside her. Sansa, who was fairly tall, felt as small as Tyrion Lannister beside the other woman. 

Ser Jaime sneered at Brienne, “I doubt that. I’m sure Robert will find some need for Gendry to come back home.”

“Prince Gendry,” Brienne corrected, her voice stern. It almost reminded Sansa of her mother and suddenly she was awash with yearning. 

“I wish I could go with you,” Sansa suddenly said, ignoring the way the Kingslayer’s eyebrows were raised. “To Winterfell or at least the Riverlands.”

Willas turned to her and she couldn’t see his face, but he pressed a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“You could…” Brienne said, “You could take a ship and meet us as I’m sure Willas would not like you to travel on the hard road with us.”

Ser Jaime snorted and Brienne glared at him. 

Feeling the need to cut the tension that was flaring up, Sansa spoke, “I truly wish I could but my duties require me to stay here for now.” 

Brienne bit her lip then, “I understand, Lady Sansa.”

“Do you now, wench?” Ser Jaime taunted making Willas frown.

“Ser Jaime, this is a lady,” Willas corrected. “Not a wench.”

“It does not matter to him,” Brienne stated, almost weary. “He finds amusement in it.”

“That’s cruel,” Sansa said without thinking.

Ser Jaime looked as if he wasn’t sure whether he should sneer or laugh. The result was a look of mischief, one that Sansa had seen appear on Loras’ face at times, in his happier moments. “You find me cruel, my lady?”

_Yes, yes I do_ , she thought, watching his green eyes flicker. They looked as cruel as the Queen’s. “No good Ser, I do, however, find the act of calling a highborn lady by the term _wench_ unseemly.”

Ser Jaime looked at Willas, “She’s not as good as lying as she thinks she is. You better keep her here.”

“She will go where she likes,” Willas frowned. “I’m her husband not her warden.”

Ser Jaime’s eyebrow raised, “But is she not with child?”

Sansa blushed. 

“What makes you say that?” Brienne demanded.

“I have seen pregnant women before,” the Kingslayer said dryly.

Sansa felt the need to intervene before the two blonde warriors stopped glaring and started pulling out their swords in the hall. “It is true. I am with child,” she smiled. 

“That is wonderful, Lady Sansa,” Brienne said, almost stiffly, although her eyes shone with _something_. 

Want? Envy? Happiness? Sansa couldn’t tell, although she did note that the warrior maid’s eyes were pretty, something she had never really noticed before.

“An heir for Highgarden, I’m sure you’re both pleased. Another glorious Tyrell knight,” the Kingslayer smirked.

Sansa reached for Willas’ hand but did not find it. Her husband was smiling amiably at the Kingslayer as if he didn’t hear the insult. “Or perhaps he’ll be interested in taking the Black or becoming a Maester. I wouldn’t try to guess the future, Ser Jaime. After all, you are an eldest son. And,” Will laughed, “after all the child could be a girl!”

Ser Jaime looked swiftly towards Lady Brienne. “A girl knight then,” he said at last. The poor woman flushed and looked like she was ready to say somethingbut Sansa didn’t want to be privy to such conversations any longer.

“Willas?” she murmured. “I think I need to go to bed. Please apologize to our guests for me.”

Willas kissed her forehead, “Go and rest.”

As she left she could hear Ser Jaime’s hateful laughter and she cringed. 

Poor Arya, to be guarded by such a faithless knight. At least Lady Brienne was by Arya’s side. Knight or no, the woman was loyal in a way that Ser Jaime could never be.

* * *

**__** “It is a pity,” Margaery sighed as Sansa unbraided her goodsister’s hair. Margaery arched her neck and shook out her locks once Sansa was done, smiling that peculiar way she always did. “But I suspected it’d be so.”

“You did?”

“Of course. And Grandmother knew it too, I think, although she’s disappointed with the outcome. She liked your brother.”

Most did, Sansa suspected. 

“I never met Wylla Manderly,” Margaery said, while looking into her own reflection. “Is she pretty?"

Margaery almost sound unsure of herself. Sansa had never heard Margaery once falter and yet now...

Still, Sansa felt uncomfortable lying to her. “She has green hair,” Sansa confessed. “But I think she’s fair.”

“A green haired lady,” Margaery laughed. “Not even I could win against such a bold move.”

Sansa doubted it was a move but smiled stiffly.

“Now, now, Sansa, don’t mind my japes. I’m only teasing, although I guess I shouldn’t, since she will be your goodsister now too,” Margaery said mirthfully. “Who shall be your favorite do you think?

“Gendry,” Sansa smiled and Margaery laughed. 

A knock on the door disturbed them and a small maid poked her head in, “Lady Sansa, Prince Oberyn wishes to meet with you and Lord Willas in the courtyard.”

“Why?”

The maid looked nervous, “He wouldn’t say to the likes of me.”

“Oh, hush,” Margaery said, “that’s just the man’s way. Do not take so much offense to him. And now that you’ve delivered this message, I relieve you of your duties.”

“But Lady Margaery, I have to help the Prince’s servants pack up for their trip.”

“Did the Prince order you to do so?”

“No, but your lord father did!”

Margaery’s laugh sounded like a bell, “Oh, don’t mind him. Just go relax. You will have plenty of work to do once the Progress leaves anyhow. And don't worry about me and your brother. Now that we know where Robb stands, Grandmother and Father have set up new plans."

"Not to Joffrey I hope," Sansa frowned while the maid left the room.

"Oh no, not to him. Not at the moment anyhow. Grandmother said a second son was already bad enough, but one without lands and a terrible temper? Well, she was not interested in that fate for me, although Father did toy with the idea."

Sansa shuddered and Margaery laughed again. "Go, see my brother. And that handsome Dornishman." Margaery smile turned into a smirk and Sansa shook her head as she left.

Prince Oberyn and her husband were talking in whispers as she arrived although she was surprised to see that they weren't alone. Ellaria Sand was with them as well as Arya and Prince Gendry.

"What is going on?" she asked, looking about the courtyard awkwardly.

"Lannisters," Prince Oberyn spat, making Prince Gendry shake his head and frown.

"That is not fair," he said although Arya just sighed.

Sansa sought out Willas' and he smiled sadly at her. "Queen Cersei has been making subtle moves in court, trying to move Joffrey into higher positions. Possibly trying to move him up in favor."  


"But you're her son," Sansa said to Prince Gendry, startled. 

He crossed his arms. "She never liked me very much," he admitted. "I don't look like her."

He looked like King Robert. 

"Will you go back then?"

Arya snarled, "We're not going to stop because of _her._ Gendry is the heir. Joffrey can't be King."

_ He can if Gendry's dead.  _

Sansa refused to voice this.

But Prince Oberyn didn't hesitate. "He can if Gendry's dead," he said fiercely. 

"Is that a threat?" Arya demanded, looking as if she wanted to grab a sword and start fighting. 

"It's the truth. You're guarded by a treacherous Lannister. If I were you, I'd start hiring tasters and your own spies and your own guards. Sellswords will only betray you if you can't pay up -"

"My mother wouldn't murder me!" Prince Gendry almost yelled, interrupting Prince Oberyn. "And Uncle Jaime seems to like me when he forgets that I look like my father."

Prince Oberyn snorted making Prince Gendry's temper flare.  "As much as you do in any case."

"You may be half-Lannister, but that doesn't mean you're safe from them," Prince Oberyn said. "No one is safe from Lannisters."

"Where is Ser Jaime?" Sansa asked, suddenly terrified that he was right behind them.

"Patrolling with Lady Brienne," Arya said. "They argue a lot so I assumed that sending them on a patrol away from here would be best."

"That was smart," Willas complimented. Arya almost preened at the praise and Prince Gendry scowled. 

"What are you going to do if you're not going back then?"

"Write to Grandfather," Gendry replied making Prince Oberyn's eyebrow twitch. "He may not be a good person but he doesn't tolerate foolishness."

"Not a good person," Prince Oberyn muttered and Sansa pitied him. 

His paramour, who before had been silent, grasped Oberyn's shoulders. "It is all right," she said almost soothingly. 

"I was also hoping to speak with Prince Doran once I arrived in Dorne," Gendry continued. "I was hoping to learn from him. He is reportedly a just and fair ruler."

Prince Oberyn's scowl lifted slightly and Ellaria Sand replied for him, "He is truly just. More so than your Grandfather."

"Tywin Lannister has power over Mother," Gendry said impatiently. "Or else I wouldn't involve him. He's the only one she respects."

What kind of person was Queen Cersei truly if the only man she respected allowed or possibly even ordered the rape, murder, and desecration of a woman and her small children?

"Is there anything we can do?" Sansa asked, looking to her sister.

Arya shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think the Queen is just awful." She looked back towards Prince Gendry and smiled, "No offense."

He rolled his eyes and smiled back at her. "It's not like you're wrong."

Young love, Sansa thought. How funny.

Arya clapped her hands together, "So now that we're done here... off to Dorne?"

Prince Oberyn laughed, "Of course, Princess Arya. Off to Dorne."

 

* * *

Nearly a month after the Progress left Highgarden for Dorne, Sansa received the news. 

And nearly fainted when she read it.

Fortunately, Lord Renly had been beside her and quickly pulled Sansa to a chair, and then called for the maester.

“Father,” Sansa muttered, feeling Lord Renly pat her brow with his silk handkerchief, “He’s ill.”

It didn’t deign on her until later to share the other news that had been encased in the letter.

But by then Lord Renly already knew. 

“Robert is dead,” he stated, his jaw tight. They were all sitting in Willas’ solar: her, Willas, Renly, Margaery, and Loras. Lord Renly’s blue eyes were flickered with something and Sansa didn’t dare to guess what. Lord Renly and King Robert had such an odd relationship… well Robert had one with everyone but her own father, it seemed.

“He was hunting and got killed by a pig. It seems like an apt end for King Robert doesn’t it?” Lord Renly spat. He got up and paced by the open window, the yellow sunlight flowing through it and surrounding him as if he was a god. 

But no one else noticed, as Loras only looked at him with worry, getting up to kiss Lord Renly's brow while Margaery narrowed her eyes.

“Who was in the hunting party?” she asked. “I know Grandmother wants to know.” Which truly meant that _Margaery_ wanted to know.

“Ser Barristan, of course, and the usual crowd of courtiers. I think Lancel Lannister was also there feeding Robert wine no doubt.”

Wine made Sansa think of Queen Cersei and she had to turn away, so they wouldn’t see her angry tears. The older woman had to have something to do with her father’s illness, Sansa just knew it. Oberyn’s message was clear to Willas and her - that the Queen wasn’t to be trusted.  

Willas, who had been very quiet this whole time, spoke. “What are we going to do about Lord Stark?”

“What do you mean what are we going to do?” Loras glared. “He’s ill - not captured.”

“But he shouldn’t be ill! Why would he be ill? It must be poison,” Sansa said, feeling almost hysterical. They would think her a weeping woman, a girl who is being affected by the babe inside her, but she could not help but feel that it was poison and she was so terribly enraged they couldn’t see it. “He’s still fairly young. He’s not Jon Arryn.”

“Two Hands with nearly identical symptoms,” Lord Renly mused, realizing the connection. “How strange.”

“You say strange, I say horrible,” Sansa felt as still as the statues of the Seven. “This is my father not some court politician. **He never even wanted to be Hand.** ”

_He needs Winterfell and Maester Luwin, he needs to go home, to see Robb and Bran and Rickon and the weirwood tree. He needs to see Mother._  


But Sansa said none of this, instead, she tried not to weep, pressing her hand against her growing belly.

Margaery rubbed Sansa’s back. “It is all right, dove. You should get some rest.”

Willas agreed, looking almost relieved by his sister’s suggestion. “It would do you some good. We’ll let you know if we find anything else out." 

“Don’t let my Father die there,” she managed to say while Margaery led her away. “At least let him die in Winterfell.”

“I will, I promise.” 

It was the first lie he had ever told her.

And yet Sansa found comfort in it.

* * *

 

Margaery married Renly before she, him, and Loras (along with a crowd of twenty-five) left for the Red Keep. They wanted to be there for Gendry, and, of course, Renly had to work in the council. _He WAS the Master of Laws_ , he said to Sansa, buoyed by his own self-importance. Sansa tried to keep a straight face and apparently succeeded as he kissed her goodbye quite sincerely and then... they all left her.

Sansa felt almost bereft. Garlan was to show up any day now with his Leonette, but Sansa didn't know Leonette. She knew Margaery and Loras and Renly. 

And she missed them terribly.

Almost as much as she missed Arya.

Although, letters from Arya had been quickly sent, twice Arya wrote from Dorne, and Arya's most recent letter came from King's Landing.

The contents of the letter from Arya did not surprise Sansa as much as it ought have, she knew. But still the thought of the Progress reconvening after Gendry’s and Arya’s coronations seemed ill-boding.  

Father had told Arya to continue it though, according to the letter, in one of his more lucid moments. Arya said that he was improving although she shooed away Grand Maester Pycelle and had Maester Luwin brought down from Winterfell. Gendry was also removing her father as Hand and giving it to his Grandfather Tywin Lannister instead, which made Sansa uncomfortable but she couldn’t rightfully admit that he would do a bad job of it. From all accounts Tywin Lannister was a leader, and an intelligent one too. 

Although she imagined that her father would not be happy with the news once he fully comprehended it. And neither would Prince Oberyn be thrilled by the prospect. 

The Dornish must be very offended, Sansa realized, at such a move. Especially since Gendry and Arya had just spent a few days at court with them before they had to suddenly leave for King's Landing because of Robert's death.  

Gendry intended many changes, Arya’s letter also told her, including sending Joffrey to Dorne to study under Prince Oberyn.

Sansa imagined that for a moment and grimaced. She hoped Prince Oberyn wouldn’t teach Joffrey about poisons. Prince Joffrey was horrible enough without the knowledge of deadly poisons. Queen Cersei was apparently furious with Gendry for sending one of her other sons there, _truly her most beloved son_ , calling Gendry awful names that rang throughout the Red Keep until she locked herself in her rooms, keeping silent, although the maids often left the room red-faced and teary-eyed. She only came out of her rooms once she heard that her Father was to be Hand of the King. 

But, Arya sounded almost hopeful. Considering that months ago her younger sister would have rather killed someone than be the Queen, Sansa felt that it was an immense improvement. Even if Gendry and Arya were taking nearly the entire court with them on their Northern journeys. It was the only way Lord Tywin agreed to the idea, although he’d be staying along with most of the Small Council. Sansa supposed he wanted to be rid of the nonsense that was the Court.

She looked at her belly and whispered, “Your Uncle is King of the Seven Kingdoms and your Aunt is the Queen.”

“Talking to the babe again?” Willas said, as he snaked his arms around her middle. 

She laughed and kissed him, enjoying the way his mouth opened for her. 

When he moved away and smiled Sansa replied, “Of course. She must know of her family.”

“How do you know it’s a girl?”

Sansa looked away from him and out to the gardens that glittered like gold under the morning sun. 

“I just do.”

* * *

The white dove that announced the end of summer arrived the moment her babes did.  

Two little girls with eyes that were as blue as her own, although, the maester assured her that it was quite normal for that to happen to even children who were destined to have dark eyes. Sansa didn’t care and held her daughters, both so strong and beautiful, and fell in love.

Willas wasn’t as disappointed as she thought he’d be. She had the opportunity to give him two sons but instead gave him two daughters, something that would have made some men furious, but he said he didn’t care, and Sansa knew he meant it. He kissed the tops of their heads and then kissed her on the mouth and smiled. She passed over the red-haired babe to him and he marveled at her and kissed her little fingers and toes. 

“Summer has ended,” he told her, as they switched babes. The red-haired babe needed to be fed, and so Sansa tucked the child into her arms. “We received the letter almost the moment our Maester told us you were in labor.”

“Winter is coming,” Sansa said, kissing her child. “And it will be longer than the rest.”

Willas smiled at her ruefully. “Sometimes I forget you’re a Stark but then you say things like that.”

Sansa kissed his cheek, brushing her lips against his beard as she did so, “You should never forget who I am. You southron lords will need me when winter comes.”

“I hope our daughters are as strong as you.”

Sansa looked at her girls, one who as dark as any Northerner and the other with her Tully hair, and smiled. “They will be.”

**Author's Note:**

> This one took a lot longer because I was never sure if I should start importing events from ASOIAF or not - I had to consider quite a bit. The next part will not have any focus on Sansa/Willas but will have more Gendry/Arya if that's your cup of tea. But the next one will also be a Brienne POV and so will be mostly focused on Jaime/Brienne. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!


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